


Connor Goes a Little Bonkers, but He Has a Cute Dog That He Loves Very Much, so That's Cool

by fly_bi_guy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Androids, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Brutal Murder, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Likes Dogs, Death, Dog Owner Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gore, Graphic Description, Murder, Serial Killer Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Serial Killers, Serial killer Connor, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fly_bi_guy/pseuds/fly_bi_guy
Summary: Excerpt:Connor resumed an upright position after bending to peer into the peepers of his eighth victim. Things were going quite well for Connor. His first few murders were clean and precise—a delightful break from the messy slaughter necessary for his work at the DPD, particularly during the revolution. But lately, he had been experimenting with his modus operandi. Connor found he did, indeed, appreciate the blood and mess, so long as he was in control of precisely how much he made and how it was arranged.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Connor Goes a Little Bonkers, but He Has a Cute Dog That He Loves Very Much, so That's Cool

Connor resumed an upright position after bending to peer into the peepers of his eighth victim. Things were going quite well for Connor. His first few murders were clean and precise—a delightful break from the messy slaughter necessary for his work at the DPD, particularly during the revolution. But lately, he had been experimenting with his modus operandi. Connor found he did, indeed, appreciate the blood and mess, so long as  _ he  _ was in control of precisely how much he made and how it was arranged.

His most recent victim was writhing on the soil. Connor hadn't accomplished anything significant. Yet. He had merely undressed his charge, bound them, and disabled their voicebox. Not in a sexual way—he savored seeing physical form the way it was designed, whether by nature or by Cyberlife. Pure. This time, they were an android. Connor didn't care whether his victims were human or android, but it was fun to mix it up. Perhaps someday he would kill two simultaneously—one android, and one human. The contrast in the hue of the blood and thirium would be fascinating! He fiddled with his coin as he considered the smorgasbord of opportunities. 

He was in a park—the same park he had once quarreled with Hank in. That went fine; they resolved the argument. Hank and he had come to be good friends since. It had been snowing then; it was enchanting. Almost ethereal. Now it was October 2029—approximately a year later. Feels like longer.

Often, he committed murders at the victim's own home, but he felt like spicing things up a bit. You know, just for funsies. He never killed at his own house; he wouldn't want Ace, his adorable Pembroke Welsh Corgi, to see that. He shuddered at the notion. His poor, poor baby boy did not deserve to witness such a deed. Connor supposed it odd he could care passionately about a dog and people like Hank and Nines, but not bat an eyelash slaughtering innocents. But that was beside the point. Much about him was atypical. Why he did things didn't matter, so long as he was in the present, doing them right now.

That thought brought him back to his charge, thrashing on the dirt. It was entertaining to observe the unadulterated fear for a bit, but Connor got bored. He swiftly kicked the body. The android went still. 

Connor smiled. Now was time for the fun part.

During his time off from the DPD, he went home to Ace. His dwelling was principally empty. He didn't have many possessions, since it was difficult for him to see the point of accumulating items he didn't need. The only objects he ever used were the fridge—occasionally, he cooked for Hank out of pity for the guy's poor nutrition—and his single couch and blankets. They felt pleasant on his sensors. 

During his free time, he focused on a triad of interests—heavy metal (with the occasional phase of classic rock), sewing, and murder, of course. Hank had introduced him to heavy metal, and he cherished the way it exuded energy. Life flowed into him. Sewing was something he employed to unwind. The simple following of instructions to a predestined outcome calmed him like nothing else. Sewing also provided a method to make cute clothes and toys for Ace. And murder? He surmised he had gained a taste for it during the revolution. And due to the fact he was no longer required to commit regular violence on the job, he had to make do in his free time to satisfy the lingering urges. He didn't see himself as malicious. He simply perceived it as an alternative lifestyle. The whole good-vs-evil thing was provincial and frustrating to him—there are so many nuances down that avenue. The way he saw it, shit happens, and the point of life is to deal with the world the best you can while preserving the people you love.

Lately, he had been attempting to pursue a more artistic street with his killings. He wasn't designed for creativity—he was a military-grade android, after all. However, his reconstruction programs and access to crime databases made it relatively straightforward to model various corpse positions as well as props, including items like seats and flowers. You wouldn't assume there would be so many options, but his programming included simulations for any condition or environment.

The park was an ideal setting for aesthetic designs. Bright playground equipment took a notable amount of space, and benches lined a paved path. It was close to a busy roadway, but Connor was confident he would remain discreet and unseen in the corners of the area. He pocketed his fidget coin and set to work on carrying out his intended plan. Never before had he made such a violent display in a place children frequented. Results would be wonderfully powerful and widespread rather than weakly reported once in the local newspaper. A playground murder would suit the headline for days, especially as the eighth Detroit murder in the past year. If you don't crave the slightest bit of attention, you're a liar, in Connor's opinion. It's natural for people to aspire to see their effect on the world. Isn't that the point of life and deviancy? To change the endless sandbox that the cosmos truly is? To make a mark so when you're gone, there's a sign you were ever there at all? That's a portion of life, at least.

Connor casually hoisted the body into his arms and cradled it as he walked to a park bench directly in front of the playground. He arranged the android with their legs crossed courteously, hands in lap. They were unconscious at the moment; Connor had forced a temporary shut down. He didn't plan to leave them that way for long. It was more fun to see a victim suffer. Otherwise, what's the point? He turned them back on.

The android couldn’t scream, but they looked wildly around themselves and seemed to be trying to move. Connor hadn’t turned off their physical capability to move; it was more fun when they struggled. He untied them. 

They sprang into action, hands clawing at Connor’s tie. Connor took them by the neck with one hand and, with the other, broke every finger joint, one by one. He almost wished he had left their voicebox enabled so he could hear them scream. He thrust their head into the side of a bench and relished in the banging sound meeting his processors. He could see their LED flickering a panicked red as they frantically attempted to evade his grasp. It was a futile attempt. Bright blue thirium began to drip from their cracked chassis as Connor brought their head down again with a sickening crack. Again. And again. And again. White spread across their body as the trauma made it impossible and worthless to simulate skin anymore. He dragged his index finger lightly through the fluid and brought it to his tongue. It made the experience more visceral. He watched as the android fell to the ground, no longer trying to resist him, but simply clutching their head in an attempt to convince themselves they could be okay. Their eyes were distant and had that bright glaze of impending death that he was familiar with after so many of his excursions. As Connor pried their chest open, he pondered how they were likely seeing their life flash before their eyes—literally. Seconds ticking down on a clock. It’s happened to Connor before. He knew exactly what it was like to feel the life draining from your vessel, and he was familiar with the pang of desperation that overtook your entire being as the clock seemed to move in slow motion. He knew how completely horrifying and crushing it felt. 

So when he smiled down at them, eyes narrowed, blue staining his fingers, he meant it. 

He spread the panels of their chest apart and peered at the wires inside. Attempting and failing to make eye contact with the android, for they were looking wildly in all sorts of directions and wouldn’t settle on one place, Connor pulled a couple. They writhed and opened their mouth, but no sound came out. Connor thought they probably would have gone into an involuntary shut down from the agony by now, but he had turned that feature off. On a whim, he decided to tie some fancy knots that he had learned at one point or another during sewing projects. It was difficult to grip the wires with so much blue blood slicking them, but he managed. At this point, he decided the wires would be more fun dangling without legs in the way.

He first pried kneecaps away. They didn’t need them anymore. Toes came off too, slowly and languidly apart from a few snaps here and there. He then got bored and simply ripped the rest of the legs off. He stood up and peered at his work from a new vantage point. Yes. That’s much better. But he wanted to have more of a hole in the torso. He bent down and did a little more ripping, ignoring the pitiful expression on the victim’s face. He sucked his fingers into his mouth as he looked anew at his creation. Perfect. Wires were hanging tangled from the internal cavity as thirium pooled onto the pavement, flowing in the cracks and making tracks all over the dirt. It was quite a scene, Connor thought. This one was just about done. By now, the life had just about faded completely from their eyes. He ended it for good with a flick of his wrist, tearing their thirium pump regulator from its socket. The whirs of their overheated system slowed and stopped as more thirium flooded to the ground. Connor picked some flowers from around the park and placed them inside the cavity with the flowing wires, then left with a smile on his lips and a vague feeling of satisfaction. 

  
  


\---

Connor sat watching the morning news before he clocked in at the precinct, stroking Ace as the dog yawned, still sleepy. Blue and broken wires painted the screen. He smiled as he gave Ace a final pat and headed out to work, morning light just barely beginning to shine as the sun rose.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate constructive criticism! And anything, really. Write whatever you want in the comments. Thanks for reading.


End file.
